Karla stared at the Causeway. She needed to simply cross it and she’d be on the mainland. And there were plenty of people there who would enjoy taking advantage of a young girl, one who appeared lost and vulnerable. She would have no problem showing them the error of their ways, no problem with claiming the debt that their other victims couldn’t
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"Oh. That's not good," he muttered under his breath.
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The glance held nothing of Karla in it, only rage and pain and the barest glimmers of recognition.
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"Karla di Glacia," Max's voice was cold and commanding as he tried to catch her attention.
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Stepping in front of him, Aphrodite approached the teenager. "Karla? Hey, it's 'Dite." She reached out carefully to put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Sweet Pea?"
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Her body was there, but Karla was gone.
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"Dinah! Something's wrong!" She made room for the teen, remembering that her friend had some telepathic ability. "She attacked Max, and he stopped her, but now I can't reach her. Can you . . .?" She wasn't sure what she was asking, but she didn't know what else to do at the moment.
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KARLA! "Please, please, please..."
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A few more zaps and the wall between the store and the counseling room was gone, revealing the two comfortable chairs. One more wave of her hand and there was a couch between them.
"Max, put her down there. Dinah, sit next to her, keep calling to her. We'll figure this out."
'Dite glanced at the boy who'd come with them, who looked much more composed than she felt. "By the way, what's your name?"
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"Karla, at last, we see each other plain!"
"Professor Max, this is no more a game..."
I am a dork, yes.
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Just in French, because all I have on me is the 1991 Paris recording. *SHAKES FIST*
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Uh. Go home. And then I will ping.
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